


Hymn to God, My God, in Earth's Sickness

by inalasahl



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Guilt, M/M, Poetry, Season/Series 05
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-04-17
Updated: 2010-04-17
Packaged: 2017-10-09 00:50:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,111
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/81246
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inalasahl/pseuds/inalasahl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One still has work to do, even when the world is dying.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hymn to God, My God, in Earth's Sickness

**Author's Note:**

  * For [vivid_honey](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=vivid_honey).



> Originally posted anonymously as a gift ficlet for [](http://vivid-honey.livejournal.com/profile)[**vivid_honey**](http://vivid-honey.livejournal.com/) for [](http://community.livejournal.com/bitchinparty/profile)[**bitchinparty**](http://community.livejournal.com/bitchinparty/). This version is slightly expanded, as I keep wanting to fiddle with the ending. Quoted bits from the poem, ["Hymn to God, My God, in My Sickness" (John Donne).](http://www.luminarium.org/sevenlit/donne/sickness.htm)

_I shall be made thy music; as I come  
I tune the instrument here at the door,_

He doesn't know what pulled him here, with his horn in his hands. He takes in the scene: Castiel trapped in a burning ring, the demon trailing the knife through Dean's body, already so broken and bloody. "All you have to do is say yes," she says, "And bring my master here, and he will end Dean's pain forever."

"Don't you dare, Sammy, don't you—" a grunt, as Dean loses his tongue.

Sam swallows, his lips part, teeth drawing back onto a y. Gabriel stares down at his hands, one empty, one with the trumpet. He lifts his hand—

—and snaps his finger.

* * *

_Whilst my physicians by their love are grown Cosmographers,  
and I their map, who lie flat on this bed_

In a blink, he'll be back to free Castiel and heal Dean Winchester. But first, he simply looks at Sam across the deserted parking garage where he's taken them to, the y on Sam's breath turning into a question.

Angels don't lie.

So when Sam Winchester asks, "What do you want?"

Gabriel says, "You."

And when Sam Winchester asks, "Will you help us?"

Gabriel says, "Yes."

In the moment it takes for Sam to step forward and bend down, pushing his lips against Gabriel's, Gabriel doesn't think to clarify that the two answers aren't related. And after—

Afterward, he doesn't want to.

* * *

_In these straits I see my west;  
For, though those currents yield return to none, what shall my west hurt me?_

He continues helping them. Lets Castiel use him as an extension cord to plug in to heaven long enough to temporarily recharge his powers. Exorcises a bus-worth of demons riding schoolchildren who try to corner them. Sits on a motel room chair, eating M&amp;Ms, waiting for Dean Winchester to say he's going out for ... whatever Dean goes out for, a drink, a pool game, a celebratory slice of pie.

Stays quiet as Sam unbuttons his jeans by the light of the flickering television.

The faint pop of a pair of jeans coming undone, slow slide of fabric against skin, wet drag of a tongue sketching a trail down the hollow of a chest, this is what Gabriel knows now. He keeps his eyes shut and his mind closed, doesn't want to see—

When he comes, it feels a little like dying.

Tricksters can't get enough sugar.

He learns the sweet shape of Sam's left ear with his mouth, the curve of his calf, the line of his back, the honeyed tang of his sweat. Gabriel memorizes every pore and dip of Sam's body, every exhale and moan and sigh. Gabriel tries to find ways to make it up to him, to make it all right. He curls himself around Sam's dreams at night, guarding them from outside influence. Heals Bobby Singer's spinal cord. Makes payment for services rendered.

Every time he comes, it feels a lot like falling.

Gabriel wants to be gentle, but the order slips out anyway, in the shadows, in the night, when Dean is late getting back, and Gabriel's spent too much time watching Sam twitch in his sleep. "Tell me you want me," he says as he wakes him. He traces the blade of Sam's shoulder with his lips. Sam smiles sleepily and turns toward him in the dark. Gabriel's voice is a little rough, a little desperate. "Please, Sam," he whispers. Sam's eyes flutter open, warm and serious, as he reaches out to card a hand through Gabriel's hair.

"I want you," he replies. "I want you." Gabriel kisses his way down Sam's body, and learns the taste of Sam's semen on his tongue, washing away the taint of flowering ash in his mouth. Things might have been different, Gabriel thinks, had Lucifer ever learned to say please. Gabriel wonders what will happen, if Lucifer learns to say please.

* * *

_Anyan, and Magellan, and Gibraltar?  
All straits, and none but straits, are ways to them_

The first time that Dean Winchester and Castiel get a separate room is after Pestilence finally goes down. Sam's thin and weak and hollow-eyed from the three-day fever that burned through his body. He sways on his feet as he undresses, but reaches for Gabriel anyway.

Gabriel steps away, but forward again, to help him to the bed. "Sleep, Sam," he says. "Just sleep."

Sam reaches out a hand. "Stay?" he whispers, throat raspy from the blood he coughed up. Sam closes his eyes, his breath falls even. Gabriel stays. In another room in the motel, a teenage girl changes her mind. The boy she's with doesn't want to listen. When he tries to drag her back to the bed, he trips, and impales himself on the spike of her high-heeled shoe.

It doesn't help the loathing.

* * *

_Be this my text, my sermon to mine own,  
"Therefore that He may raise, the Lord throws down."_

The next time Sam reaches for him, Gabriel flinches and draws back. "You don't have to," he says. "I'll help anyway."

"I know that," Sam says. He looks puzzled as he kisses Gabriel's forehead. "I always knew that." His expression turns disappointed, pained. "Did you think—"

"No," Gabriel says quickly, and pulls out a candy bar, trying to chew as nonchalantly as possible, as if he didn't just confess he thought he'd been blackmailing Sam into sex for the last few weeks.

Sam huffs irritably, eyeing Gabriel with suspicion. After a moment, he laughs. "Oh, forget it," he says. "We can fight after the apocalypse."

Gabriel wants to accept the reprieve, but there's a small part of him that still knows better. "I should have said something sooner."

Sam nods. "Yeah, but if you're expecting—I freed Lucifer from hell. I kind of lost the right to judge others."

Gabriel steps back. "That doesn't mean you deserve—"

Sam pulls him back into a placating embrace. "I know that. I just meant, I understand mistakes. I ... forgive you."

Gabriel doesn't miss the wistful tone. He places his hands to either side of Sam's face. "Sam," he says with perfect clarity, because angels don't become choked with emotion. "You know you're forgiven, too."

"Sure," Sam says.

"Sam ..."

"If we can just stop Lucifer—"

"Sam!"

Sam stops, and his face softens. "Okay," he says. "Okay." He suddenly hugs Gabriel fiercely, his voice a harsh croak in Gabriel's hair. "I don't know how you could have thought I didn't need this," he says. "Didn't need—you." With a snap, they're both on the bed, naked.

Tricksters do love to give people what they deserve, after all.

Finis

**Author's Note:**

> Rated for appearance of non-con, mention of attempted rape, some violence.


End file.
